Fall
by dominicgrim
Summary: While a storm batters Kirkwall, two angry haunted souls fall. Warden Bethany seeks shelter in Fenris' mansion. Teen now, likely rated M later, language and adult situations. I do not own dragon age.
1. Chapter 1

**Fall (part one)**

 **HE** made his way down the dark streets of Hightown, the cold rain soaking him to the skin. He could have stuck to the arches and awnings that dotted the noble district but he chose not to.

He let the rain fall.

For three days now the storm had battered the city of chains. Even the most stubborn of torches in Kirkwall had finally been doused by onslaught. The driving rain hammered down on the black cliffs of Kirkwall. It seemed that nature wished to see Kirkwall washed away into the sea, one moment soaking everything, and the next, merely spattering the cobblestones. One minute it would pour, the next it would drizzle, then it would pour again.

He did not care. He trudged down the street not caring about the weather, what did a little rain matter? It was only a discomfort, and he was no stranger to discomfort and pain. He was trying to make sense of his troubled thoughts, and the pounding of his heart, even as his spiky leather armor grew more uncomfortable by the moment, his silver hair becoming plastered to his head, and the water dripping from his nose and the points of his elven ears. The markings on his skin flared slightly against the deluge. The lyrium offered no protection, merely responding to the swirl of emotions that haunted him this night.

The rain did not matter to Fenris, he simply did not care.

He made his way home, home to the abandoned mansion he had claimed from his former master, his enemy. He returned to the darkness of its shadows, the comfort of the cool loneliness.

Fenris shook his head.

It was better this way, in all his time alone he had never felt so conflicted. He had not been so conflicted since the day he had slain the fog warriors who had protected him so long ago. The day he realized he could no longer be a slave.

Fenris almost laughed at that.

The plain and simple fact was he was still a slave. He was a slave to vengeance and anger. The collar he now wore was around his heart, not his neck. He had killed his master's apprentice, that should have brought him peace, but instead he was still troubled, still bound to what Danarius had taken from him all those years ago.

He shivered, blinking his eyes against the deluge, his arms went to his chest, rubbing it, trying to keep warm as he trudged through the storm, much as he had done on many a cold and lonely night. Back then it had been easy. He had been alone. He had only had himself to answer to, to fight for, with Danarius' hunters always on his heels. He had drawn strength from those storms. If they could not bring him to his knees, Danarius never would. He let those storms swallow him whole, taking comfort in surviving their rages…

Tonight…it brought no comfort.

He had sought out Hawke, trying to find peace of mind, after Hadriana, after seeing all those slaves butchered to give her the strength to face them. He had went to her door and stood in her presence.

 _Why had he done that?_

Had he wanted forgiveness? Absolution? Permission? He could not say for certain. He had crushed Hadriana's wicked heart, and still felt no justice, only hate and emptiness.

Talking with Hawke had always made him feel better in the past, but tonight, she was not free to talk.

Tonight, she was not alone.

The abomination was there, and there were nights he knew, that the man never left.

The mere thought brought a growl to his lips.

Fenris did not trust him, no matter what Hawke thought. He held his tongue because the monster was useful and he did not wish to be cast out from her company. He…he was…

He shook his head.

He had felt drawn to her, from the very moment they had first met in the Alienage almost three years ago. Marian Hawke was everything that he was not. She was strong, happy, and free…

It was that beauty, that strength that held him here. Not the companionship, not the threat of Danarius, not even having a place to call his own.

It was her.

It had always been her.

She had bound him to her with the fewest of words, all she had to do was ask and he would have been hers, without fear and without resistance.

It seemed he was still a slave, he had just traded one set of painful chains for another, and yet she did not see him as hers.

She never had.

She had chosen the abomination. She had taken Anders into her life and into her bed, and now here he was…lost to his chains again, bound in ways that were more painful than any punishment Danarius could have devised. He could still see her standing there, in the foyer of her estate, he could still see her face, that pale creamy skin, those blue sparkling eyes, the way the light played off her raven black hair.

 _We are friends, Fenris_ , she had said, her voice thick with concern, perhaps even pity.

It was the one thing he did not want from her, what he had never wanted.

Pity was not something he desired.

 _Friends?_

He had turned away then, not wanting her to see him like this.

They were friends…

 _I don't think I know what that means_ , he had said _._

He had fled out into the storm. He let the rain drench him, hoping it would wash away the anger and confusion. Hoping that it would cleanse him of this desire to have the one thing he never could.

He let the rain fall.

 _It did_ _ **not**_ _help._

He turned down the side street that led to the mansion, his mansion. Three years had passed and still Danarius had not come to try and take it from him, no one had tried to take it from him. He sometimes wondered what his former master was waiting for. He was not going to run this time. He had grown weary of it.

 _He would turn and face the tiger. Either he would fall, or his master would._

None of his noble neighbors bothered him; if they cared about the elf squatting in the old place they made no complaints to the guard or anyone else in power. He kept to himself, and they minded their own business, of course, his involvement with Hawke didn't hurt.

He set his mouth into a grim line.

He would likely spend the rest of the evening with a bottle of Aggregio, he might even pull out the book that Hawke had given him, practice his reading…

Fenris shook his head.

Even now he found himself unable to stop thinking about her. Her reading lessons were a kind gift, one he was grateful for, more than she could know. He…enjoyed their afternoons together, sitting on her small couch as he tried to conquer whatever book she placed in front of him. It had been a tough battle at first, but slowly the world of the written page was finally opening up to him. He…

He paused…as still as a statue.

He had arrived at the estate and knew immediately that he was not alone.

His markings tingled ever so slightly; he could almost taste the magic in the air, magic that should not have been here. Everything seemed in order, but Danarius had taught his little wolf long ago to sense when a mage came calling, especially when they used their powers to force their way into a place they were not wanted.

His eyes narrowed dangerously.

The rain paused, it became a drizzle, but he was now more than soaked. He felt cold and uncomfortable, but more than that, he felt the flicker of hate in his breast.

He could not harm Anders. Hawke would never have allowed it, but whoever this was…this hunter.

A feral gleam came to his eyes.

He could harm this fool…and feel not a whit of shame for doing so.

He drew his great sword as thunder rumbled overhead. His elven ears twitched with excitement, lowering in anticipation of blood and the kill to come.

He would savor this violence; drown himself in the blood of an enemy.

 _Maybe_ that _would give him peace._

He pushed the door open, blade at the ready, he was greeted by the shadowed filled vestibule, and in the room where he slept several candles were burning, candles that had not been lit before he left.

"I know you are there, hunter," he spat, his voice think with venom, "Come out and face me…if you dare!"

A single figure appeared from his room, his markings flared, he drew strength from the lyrium preparing for battle.

It was then that it his uninvited guest spoke, and the night changed completely.

"He…hello F…Fenris."

It was a voice he had not heard in almost three years, and never expected to hear again. It was not harsh or cruel, into was soft like silk, warm like honey, but also tinged with fear and sadness.

Fenris powered down, his markings faded back into his skin.

He stepped forward, no longer looking for a fight. She was armed, he could see the staff strapped to her back, but she made no attempt to draw it. She knew what would happen if she tried to attack him, not that she ever would.

She was one of the few mages that he could say that about.

He looked at her face, it had barely changed in the last few years, a small mark on her chin, her raven black hair had grown longer too, almost down past her shoulders. The only difference he could see was her eyes. They were cold and flinty; the shy innocence he remembered was long gone from those eyes. The girl had barely aged, but her eyes reflected the weight of many years.

"I…I let myself in, I'm sorry," she murmured, "I…wa…was t…trying to get out of the r…r…rain."

He could hear her teeth chattering, she wore no cloak, only a blue and silver gambeson with leather leggings. Knee high leather boots and elbow length gloves completed her look. Water dripped from her face and nose. The sigil of the white griffon that graced her shoulder looked gray from it's time in the rain.

Fenris frowned.

Perhaps not entirely gray, he could see the blood stains, some black some dark maroon, but that did not surprise him.

Being a Grey Warden was not safe or gentle work.

He sheathed his blade, and gave her a disapproving look.

His eyes narrowed.

"Bethany," he growled.

"Ye…Yes?" she answered.

"What are you doing here?"

She gave him a wan smile.

"I…I had n…nowhere else t…to go."

"What about your family?"

For a brief moment anger flashed in her honey brown eyes.

Fenris paused; it seemed she was unwilling to answer, at least right now.

Not that he blamed her.

He shook his head, she looked worse than he did by far. How long had she been out in the storm? Why had she not made for her family?

Good questions all, but he would not likely get the answers he sought standing in this vestibule dripping all over the place.

Fenris sighed.

"You're going to catch your death like that," he said.

She shrugged dismissively, something in her eyes said that catching her death was not such a bad thing.

His ears twitched with curiosity, but knew that there would be a better time for questions.

He motioned for her to follow.

"Come with me." 

She nodded and fell in step behind him. He listened to her footfalls, the soft tread of a seasoned hunter. Not like the steps of the girl he remembered at all. She was a predator now, only two breaths away from going on the prowl.

He felt his old battle senses stirring, but quickly willed them to be calm.

He had nothing to fear from Hawke's little sister. She might have been a mage but she was not his enemy. She had even tried to help him once, offering him her advice on how best to catch her sister's eye.

It had not worked out in the end. Perhaps Hawke blamed him for not protecting Bethany better in the deep roads? Perhaps she blamed him for Bethany getting sick?

If she did, that would likely explain why she had chosen to bed the abomination. He had given her sister a chance at life while Fenris had failed to keep her from the reach of death.

He had failed Hawke.

He had failed Bethany.

Yet now, Bethany had shown up here, in his home.

Her words haunted him.

 _I have nowhere else to go._

Why would she thing that?

Her family was just down the street.

There would be time to ask her about it soon, once they were both dry.

Outside the thunder rumbled, and the roar of water hit the roof, the deluge resumed. Once again nature did its best to wash Kirkwall away.

And here they were a Grey Warden and an escaped slave.

Alone.

Together.

Outside the rain continued to fall.

A storm raged outside.

While the storm raged within.

…And the rain continued to fall, separating two lost souls from the rest of the world.

Two souls broken by pain and anger….

Two souls…ready to fall.

 **A/N: This one has been in my head for a while now. It is not going to be a long story, but it might go mature before it is done so I decided to make it a stand-alone, three or five chapters at most. If you want to hear the rest shoot me a review. You know I always like them.**

 **DG**


	2. Chapter 2

**Fall (part 2)**

Fenris showed Bethany to a small room where she could change. Then he returned to get the fire going. He was still soaked from his journey back from Hawke's estate, but at least now he had something else to think about besides his last conversation with Marian.

The elf sighed. To say that Hawke's sister's arrival here tonight was unexpected was a gross understatement. It had been years since he had seen Bethany Hawke, ever since Hawke and Anders had given her to the wardens during their expedition to the deep roads. He still remembered how sick she had been that day, barely able to stand up by the time they found the Abomination's former allies. At the time Fenris had not wanted to let them take her, but knew they had no other choice, left unattended the blight sickness would kill the girl.

Fenris shook his head.

Back then, all they could do to help her was offer her mercy, a release from the pain, a quick and painless death.

Now she was back in Kirkwall, here in his home.

He could not help but wonder why.

Soon he had a roaring fire going, the orange light throwing shadows over the walls. Despite the warmth he shivered, his own wet armor reminding him that he needed to change.

Fenris went to the old pack he kept in the corner of the room. He had few belongings that he called his own, a repair kit for his sword and armor, a few trinkets that had amused him during his travels, a plain white shirt and some slightly frayed trousers.

He quickly stripped off his armor. Once he had changed he would need to see to its repair and drying. The armor had saved his life many times, and he had no coin for a new set.

Hawke would have helped him of course, but his pride prevented him from asking. Perhaps he had spent too much time on his own in the last few years, or perhaps he did not wish to be anymore beholden to Hawke that he already was?

The chains on his heart were tight enough already, he had no desire to make them tighter.

He had fetched some towels from the linen closest down the hall, two he had given to Bethany, the rest he had brought back here. He quickly went about drying himself off.

He stood near the bed, clad in only his leggings; he dried his bare chest before slipping his old shirt over his head. Once that was done he saw to the rest of him, removing and servicing his armor, then slipping on his old trousers.

By the time he was done he felt a hundred times better, the shivers had stopped and he no longer creaked when he walked. He carried the armor over to the fire to dry. He inspected it for any damage as he oiled and saw to the various plates and straps.

Outside there was another loud rumble of thunder. He barely paid it a second thought. Now that he was back in the old mansion, he was back in safe territory.

Even with his uninvited guest down the hall. He…

"Fenris?"

He glanced up. Bethany stood in the doorway, staff in hand. She was wrapped in nothing but a heavy black fur blanket. It was wrapped around her in way that left her shoulders free, giving him a good view of her slender neck and pale shoulders. Her feet were bare, and by the dim like he could just make out the barest trace of skin on her ankles.

He arched his eyebrow curious about her state of undress.

She shrugged dismissively.

"The rain soaked me completely," she explained. Even the clothes in my pack were wet."

She tilted her head slightly.

"That is not a problem is it?"

He grunted and shook his head no. He motioned for her to take a place near the fire. This mansion could be drafty at night.

He saw no reason that he should not at least try to be a good host.

The mage sat her staff against the wall and joined him by the fire. She folded her pale legs underneath herself, adjusting the blanket so that she could get more comfortable. She said nothing as she began holding her hands out to catch warmth from the flames.

For a while they said nothing, they just sat there, content, watching the fire and trying to banish the cold wetness that was outside these walls. The shadows playing off the walls gave the room an almost otherworldly feel, like they were the last two people left in all of Thedas.

Outside the rain continued to fall.

The silence was not exactly…uncomfortable, but there was something in the air, a slight charge.

Neither of them would have acknowledged it, even if they had been asked.

There was simply…something…there, and it was just not the quiet.

…A quiet that could not last.

It was Bethany who finally broke it.

"You would not happen to have anything to eat, would you?" she gave him a wan smile.

"I've been living off dried rations for weeks."

Fenris nodded and rose from his place. Occasionally, Hawke would drop off small baskets of food for him. She knew how Hightown merchants liked to gouge elves on the prices of their goods. Lowtown was not much better. He traded with the Alienage elves from time to time, but they did not have many food goods to spare. Nothing grew in the Alienage but that big tree of theirs. The smoke from the foundries made growing anything in the Alienage next to impossible.

He pulled out a small loaf of bread and several apples. He offered her half the bread and the piece of fruit. She smiled gratefully and took them both.

He blinked as he searched through the basket.

"I only have aggregio to drink," he said, "I could find you some water…?"

"Aggregio is fine," she said softly, "I…what?"

His ears twitched with amusement.

"What?" she repeated.

He chuckled softly.

"I let you try aggregio once," he reminded, "It did not work out so well."

She snorted at his concern.

"Things have changed," she said coolly.

She plucked the bottle of wine from its place on the floor. It seemed that she had something to prove. It was a challenge she would not shirk. She uncorked the bottle, and put it to her lips, and took a long hard drink, barely pausing to swallow.

Fenris was speechless.

He remembered back when the girl agreed to help him with her sister, the day she promised to help him catch the elder Hawke's eye. The two had drunk on it; well he had drunk on it…

She had taken a single sip of aggregio and started sputtering, it took titanic effort on her part but she managed to keep from vomiting.

It had amused him at the time, now…now…

She had showed him just how much she had changed.

Hawke's sister did not even blink. She gave him a pleased smile and sat it back down.

The elf shook his head.

"That was…surprising," he said.

Again she gave him that slight smile.

"I've drunk worse things than Tevinter wine in the last few years, believe me," she answered.

Despite the darkness and the rain he actually chuckled.

A slight warmth tickled the pit of his stomach, and it had nothing to do with the fire.

Bethany almost smirked.

Outside the rain continued to fall.

Within the estate, the storm was just starting to build.

It was not there yet, but soon…

Soon…

It would come.

IOI

Bethany Hawke stared into the fire, her fingers picking idly at the bread Fenris had offered her, listening to the rain falling hard on the roof of the old estate.

The warden mage shivered slightly, she shifted the fur up a little bit on her shoulder, enjoying the feel of soft fur on her bare skin.

She sighed softly, trying to ignore the slight buzzing in her head, the buzzing that had nothing to do with the wine she had drank seconds earlier.

She frowned.

That particular buzzing never went away, and it likely never would.

The taint was always there, and it always would be, and…

…it was slowly driving her mad.

It had been a long time since she had been this close to Kirkwall, a very long time indeed. When she wasn't in the warden base at Ansburg she was travelling with her scouting group, checking on deep roads entrances and making sure that no darkspawn raiding parties reached the surface.

It was rare when they did get a chance to stop and rest, and when they did she usually kept to herself. She did not go to taverns and brothels that the rest of the young wardens chose to frequent. She spent her time preparing, restocking the supplies she needed for the next leg of their journey, or writing a quick letter home to mother.

Some of her fellow wardens had come to see her as arrogant, but that was not the case at all.

Since joining the order she had been surrounded by death. Half of the people she had served her first year with were now dead. During the early days of her training she had spent a lot of time travelling with Stroud, when he was not leading scouting groups he was out recruiting.

Bethany had met many a new warden recruit in her first year, elves, humans, dwarves. Most of those recruits had been hard men, dangerous men, but a few had been nice.

She winced.

Darren had been nice.

They had travelled together for several weeks before actually returning to Ansburg. He had been smart, outgoing, and handsome. She had been new to the order then, lonely and shy. Darren had…had…

She just managed to suppress a whimper.

The senior wardens had treated her harshly in the beginning. They saw her as a charity case, unworthy of the role she had been forced into. When things got bad in that first year, and they had, she at least had Darren to talk to.

It had been nice. He had been nice.

He had even saved her life once. A hurlock alpha had knocked her down during a darkspawn raid on a small farm; the creature had stood over her, wielding a massive maul. She could still see it so clearly, its black armor spider webbed with the taint, its yellow-gray flesh bruised and covered with black sores. That horrible wide mouth, full of fangs, a mouth that had no real lips, it had been ready to crush her head with its weapon when Darren had saved her.

He had rushed head long into danger, he had pushed the monster back, gave her time to regain her feet and bring her magic back into the fight.

They had killed the beast together, the two of them. After that something had changed between them.

They had become lovers the very next night. She had given Darren her innocence and he had given her a night of peace…

…A peace that had ended when they reached Ansburg, when he had taken the joining, or rather when he had refused to take the joining.

Darren was brave, but that did not mean he wished to bond himself to the darkspawn. He had refused. Stroud insisted. He still refused.

Darren drew a hidden blade; he pushed the chalice away and ran, out of the little chapel in Ansburg, past his brothers. He had had no plan; it was panic, pure and simple.

He had tried to flee; she had been standing witness that night, watching the door. It had been the fourth joining she had seen. She had watched as seven warden recruits had perished, stood by while their fellows succeeded.

Darren did not succeed.

Darren…had been the eighth.

Stroud had ordered her to stop him, and despite everything, how she felt, what they had shared…

She had done her duty, at the cost of her soul.

Darren had died in her arms, her dagger between his ribs.

He had looked into her eyes, just as he had the night they had first become lovers. Those eyes were panicked, in shock, and pleading for an explanation.

She had whimpered.

She had none to give.

"I'm sorry," she had mouthed.

If he heard her she did not know. His eyes had been wide with fear and surprise, then…the light left them, all life left them.

There was nothing she could do for him then. She simply held him until he was gone.

Gone forever.

It was the least she could do.

She cried that very night, it was the last time she allowed herself to do so.

Darren was dead, and she had killed him.

She…had killed him.

What else could be said?

After that, none of the other wardens questioned her commitment to the order.

None dared.

After that, she had stood apart from the others; it was better that way, safer.

She buried her heart deep, and decided it would never again see the light.

It was the only thing she could do.

The only way she could survive.

IOI

Bethany stared idly into the flames. The cold melancholy of Darren's memory washed over her. It was far colder than the rain that had soaked her on her journey here…

…Colder and far more painful.

The wardens rarely travelled this close to Kirkwall, and when they did they tended to avoid the city. The Templars in the Gallows did not like them. Yet even the Templars could stop them from investigating reports of darkspawn along the wounded coast.

The chantry's soldiers did not deal darkspawn; they were unprepared for the beasts. So they had let the wardens in, just this once.

The grey wardens did their duty, and Bethany had found herself with a unique opportunity.

Stroud had come to respect in her the last few years. It was because of that respect that he offered her a chance to journey into Kirkwall proper, to pay a visit to her family.

It was an offer she could not refuse.

The sky had been darkening even then, but she had left with little but a light cloak and her pack.

She had hoped to beat the storm, but some storms cannot be beaten. Had she hurried she might have, but something slowed her pace. She had ended up walking when she should have been running.

The rain started to fall.

She had been too close to the city to stop, so she had pushed on, letting the foul weather drench her, but that was not what slowed her approach to the Amell estate.

It was not the storm outside that slowed her.

It was the storm within.

She wanted to see her mother, to hear her voice, feel her touch, and smell her perfume. She wanted to remember her old life again, just for a few moments, but mother was not the only one waiting in Kirkwall was she?

Marian was there too.

Bethany had wrestled many times with her feelings regarding her sister. She loved Mari; she did not deny that, but…but…

She also remembered that it was Marian that had given her to the Grey Wardens. It was Marian who had expected the order to save her.

The warden mage frowned.

Her sister had not understood, Anders had tried to warn her, but she had not listened.

Now, Bethany knew the truth.

The wardens had changed her, and not all for the better. She had done things in the last year that still haunted her, things that tore away at her conscience.

She had done horrible things, while Mari lived in a shiny estate by the sea.

It was not right.

It was not fair.

It was this conflict that slowed her steps, slowed her until even her small clothes were drenched.

She was not even really thinking when she found herself in front of Fenris' home.

All she knew was that she could not continue onto the Hawke estate, not like this.

Not tonight.

She did not wish to face mother looking so bedraggled. She did not wish to see pity in the older woman's eyes, and she did not wish to here Mari make some glib sarcastic comment, any glib or sarcastic comment.

She likely would have hit her sister if she had.

So, now here she sat across from her old friend across from Fenris.

Bethany shook her head.

There was a time that she would have blushed furiously being here in such a state of undress, being here alone with him.

But that had been a different time, and a different her.

Bethany Hawke had been too innocent back then.

Innocence was one of the first things to go when you joined the wardens.

It was caught in the storm of battle, drowned in a sea of black blood, drowned…

…And washed away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Fall (part 3)**

"You killed her?"

Fenris winced. He wasn't really expecting Bethany to be so blunt, but…well…there it was.

The elf sighed as he took another pull from the bottle of aggregio.

"I did," he replied, "Hadriana had been a torment for me. My every memory of her was one of torment. When…when I saw what she had done to the slaves that she had brought with her, when she used blood magic to try and protect herself from me…I…I…"

He growled low in the back of his throat, the sound likely would have scared a darkspawn had they heard it.

Bethany simply sat there, watching him with glassy honey-brown eyes.

"She offered me information for her life, news about my…my sister. I accepted her offer, only to still crush her heart for all that she had done."

Fenris glared down at his guest, Bethany still said nothing. She simply sat there wrapped in her black fur blanket, a nearly empty bottle of aggregio in her hands. The girl's mouth had become a grim line, but still her face remained blank.

Fenris suddenly found himself very…apprehensive.

"Do you believe I did wrong?" he asked her, "I had made a deal with Hadriana, and yet still I killed her. I lied to her, as she had lied to me many times in the past.

He shook his head, snorting like an angry stallion.

"Your sister was not pleased, what do you think of my actions?"

Bethany shifted slightly in her place by the fire; she took a small drink, likely to gather a bit of courage before she responded. Fenris readied himself for a tongue lashing.

The young warden sighed. She looked into the fire, perhaps searching for the right words.

When she finally responded, it was not quite what he expected.

"I love Mari," she began, "But that does not mean that she is correct all the time. In fact, in the last year, I've come to realize that my sister…well…she…she can at times be very…naïve. Good and evil, right and wrong, it is rarely so easily quantified and measured."

Bethany shook her head.

"I have seen men that most would call evil, men guilty of horrible acts, die bravely defending their fellow wardens, giving their lives to save their friends without a word of complaint. I've also seen good men, righteous men run from their duty. They were afraid to make the sacrifice that they were called upon to perform. They ran and…"

The girl shivered, she looked away from the fire, not wanting to meet his gaze.

She lowered her head in shame.

"Those of us…those of us who knew them had to do what they could not. We had to scorch our souls to make the wrong things right."

She wiped idly at her eyes, no tears fell, but even Fenris could see that it was a very near thing.

Bethany sighed again and looked him straight in the eye.

"This…this Hadriana sounds like an awful person, a person who delighted in the suffering of others, or at least thought herself above the consequences of her actions. What you did…it was not evil. Had she escaped she very well might have returned to menace you again, or to go after Mari and the others. Sometimes we are called upon to do things others would see as intolerable, so that others can stay innocent, so they do not have to perform unspeakable acts."

Bethany shrugged, and took another drink of aggregio.

"It is not about being a hero. I do not think I believe in heroes anymore. All I see here is a decent man who was forced to do an indecent thing, indecent, but necessary."

She gave him that sad smile of hers.

"Thank you for protecting our friends."

Fenris blinked, not really sure how to respond to what he had just heard.

No blame, no condemnation, no permission, just grim acceptance, it was not something he had expected of the younger Hawke. Bethany had always had such a light in her, even when she was most fearful of the Templars and the circle that had always been a threat to her.

The light had not entirely been extinguished, but it was eclipsed, the grim reality of life as a grey warden had darkened her soul, but perhaps that was the only way that she could endure her new life.

The sun had been hidden by the darkest of storm clouds, but it had not gone out, it was still there.

His mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but almost one.

She had not passed judgment, merely offered her sympathies; it was not pity, just acceptance.

That was one emotion that he could deal with.

"You're…you're welcome," he replied.

Again she smiled slightly, and returned to staring into the soft orange flames of the fire.

Something…warm stirred in the elf's breast, something that had been quiet until now. He found himself looking at the young woman before him with new eyes. This was not the viper in their midst that he had warned Hawke about years ago, nor was it simply the little sister that Hawke would have moved mountains for to protect.

Bethany was…different.

He saw the way the soft black fur clung to form, the slender neck. It had fallen down farther as the night continued, revealing more of her, the gentle swell of her chest against the yielding fabric. The way one long creamy leg caught the orange light of the fire.

Fenris looked away; at least, he tried to look away.

What he was thinking was…inappropriate, this was Hawke's little sister after all.

Then another thought hit him; hit him like a lightning bolt from the storm outside.

Hawke isn't here, is she?

The elf swallowed hard.

The storm continued to build.

IOI

The night continued as the storm continued to rage outside. The thunder and lightning began to drift apart, but still the pouring rain battered the city of chains.

Bethany Hawke shifted slightly, enjoying the warm glow of the fire on her bare skin, and the equally warm glow of the Tevinter wine as it washed over her body.

It…it had been a long time since she had let herself go, just throw away the fear and anger that were her constant companions and just enjoy the stillness of the moment.

She frowned at the empty wine bottle on her lap, her third tonight, or perhaps her fourth?

She found that she could no longer remember, and did not really want to.

The aggregio had spread a warmth from her belly from the top of her head to the tips of her wiggling toes. All heavy thoughts and stress vanished as it worked its way through her, making her feel more and more relaxed.

The shadows had become darker, more intimate. The storm outside isolated them from the normal whirl of the outside world. It was just the two of them, her and Fenris, alone in the dark of night.

She smiled more openly now.

She could think of worse companions.

She lay down near the fire, resting her head on her upturned hand, supporting herself with just her elbow. Fenris had leaned back against the old arm chair; he had joined her on the floor some time ago, the nearly empty food basket, and more than a few empty wine bottles between them.

She found herself watching her host very closely, not because she feared him, though there was still some fear there, Fenris was a dangerous man, even a fool could see that. He carried himself like a silent predator, a wolf in both name and actuality.

He had such strength, such quiet power, that quiet power made her shiver, but not with fear, no.

This...this was caused by something else entirely.

 _You're drunk,_ her conscience chided.

 _Probably_ , she thought back.

 _Don't even think about doing something stupid. You know where his heart truly lays._

She frowned.

 _Yes, she did know._

She shook her head.

 _Damn it!_

Slowly the wine had drained her of her inhibitions, she let the fur she was wrapped in fall lower off her shoulders, pulled it up just so that he would have a clearer view of her legs.

She licked her lips.

Darren had always liked her legs; he said that there were noble women in the cities who would kill to possess such legs. Bethany had never seen the big deal herself, but then again, she had never really noticed the looks men gave her before the deep roads. Her fear of the Templars had been all consuming.

Isabela had said that she was attractive. Those men had noticed her, even if she had not noticed them. It was rare that Bethany even acknowledged the presence of the men around her. Though that handsome noble chantry brother had caught her eye, he was off limits of course, having taking vows and all, but that did not mean that she could not appreciate what she was seeing.

Fenris is off limits too, her conscience reminded her, he wants Mari and he doesn't need your problems.

Bethany sighed irritably.

Sometimes she hated her conscience.

If Fenris noticed the mental war going on inside her head he said nothing. The elf was the perfect picture of calm; he was not even looking her way now, simply staring into the fire.

She blinked as she started watching him, truly watching him.

The trousers he wore were just tight enough that she could see the hard muscle in his legs, the white shirt was a little big for him perhaps, but it was cut low in front, showing his marked neck and running down to his toned muscled chest.

Bethany shifted slightly, trying to ignore the warmth that was starting to glow low in her belly, and threatened to work its way down.

She sighed heavily.

Fenris ears twitched.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

She almost cursed.

What in Andraste's name are you doing?!

Her mind worked quickly, trying to come up with the proper excuse. She hid her nervousness well; a few years in the grey wardens had taught her the value of hiding her true emotions and thoughts.

She managed a weak smile.

"Jussst thinking," she sighed.

The elf blinked, likely noticing her slightly slurred speech.

How many bottles had they gone through tonight, quite a few to be certain, she had not been keeping count. Fenris seemed sober, but she had to admit, she had never seen the elf drunk before.

Perhaps he was simply better at hiding it then most.

He raised the bottle he was holding to his lips. Bethany watched him with rapt attention, the way his neck moved as he swallowed, the way his lips embraced the mouth of that bottle.

Her cheeks turned a rosy pink, and it had nothing to do with the liquor.

The elf sighed and wiped his mouth. Outside the rain continued to fall heavily against the city. There would be no leaving tonight, even if either of them had wished to.

He turned to his guest.

"It…it is getting late," he said softly.

"Yes it is," she said with gentle smile.

"We should both try and get some rest."

She nodded in agreement, but still made no attempt to move.

They both stood there, silently watching each other, the air was thick with energy neither could truly understand but were both deeply under the sway of.

Fenris sighed.

"You…you may take the bed if you wish," he said, "It is not much, but…"

She shifted a little more, showing him a bit more leg.

"I've slept in worse places, Fenris," she cooed, "And in harsher company, this…thisss isss actually quite nice."

If he noticed what she was doing he did not show it. He did not even smile.

"The bed is…softer than it looks," he promised.

She tilted her head slightly.

"Where will you sleep?"

The elf's mouth twisted into a grim line.

"Here," he said pulling a pillow off the chair behind him.

Bethany frowned.

"I do not wish to impose."

"I've offered," He said, "I would not have done so if I minded."

She blinked looking between the bed behind them, and the elf's fierce green eyes, their power was only slightly affected by the wine.

The gaze made her feel nervous, like a prey animal cornered by a hunter…

…A hunter willing to make the kill.

All he had to do was move forward now, forward…

…and claim his prize.

He reached out, she waited for his hands to touch her, but instead he pointed to the bed.

"Please," he said softly, "I insist."

Bethany sighed.

Perhaps it was for the best.

This…this could only end badly.

She tried to stand up, but the world tilted around her, she started to stumble and fall…

Fenris was there, he was as quick as a snake, quicker even.

He held her in his arms, holding her up.

Brown eyes stared into green, drowning in those to deep green pools.

Bethany swallowed hard, her throat suddenly felt very dry.

She could feel his warm breath on her face, smell the Tevinter wine there. They were almost nose to nose now.

She shuddered in sweet surrender.

Fenris picked her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her to the bed. She…she had not realize how strong he was, so strong and so quick.

She laid her head against his shoulder.

"I think I'm a little drunk," she almost giggled.

He snorted.

"To say the least," he replied.

He lay her down on the bed, letting her slip out of his strong arms.

She could not deny that she felt at least a tiny flash of disappointment as he stepped away.

She had not come here for this, but seeing him stepping back towards the fire. It…it felt like rejection.

Bethany hated that feeling.

 _It is better this way._

 _Is it?_

 _He wants Mari not you._

She sighed heavily.

 _You're drunk._

 _Let it go._

She almost growled.

 _Shit._

She moved just enough so that she could pull the covers back. Her head buzzing pleasantly from the wine, all but blocking out the constant hum of the taint, she pushed the pillow up to her head, and did her best to try and get comfortable.

It was not as hard as she had thought.

Fenris had not lied; the mattress was both soft and dry, feather perhaps, as were the pillows.

She let her head sink down into the softness; the wine began to drain her strength, carrying her off like she was floating on white puffy clouds.

She threw away the fur blanket, letting it puddle on the floor next to the bed as she wrapped herself beneath the silken sheets. If Fenris even noticed he revealed nothing. No, only words passed between them. Kind words perhaps, but only words.

"Goodnight, Bethany," she heard the elf growl.

She sighed.

"Night," she murmured.

Not good night though, had the elf been willing, it could have been very good, for both of them, but now…now…

 _Don't even go there._

"Hush," she almost whimpered.

 _It's better this way._

 _Right._

 _It_ _ **is**_ _better._

Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance.

The true storm was **still** coming.

It was **almost** there.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This story will be going mature next chapter, just a little heads up for those who are following it.**

 **DG**

 **Fall (part 4)**

Fenris couldn't sleep.

He lay on his back near the fire, which had finally burnt down to mere embers. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the storm outside.

It was no less raging then the storm currently blazing in his thoughts…and his heart.

The elf pursed his lips in disgust, his green eyes narrowing in frustration.

He rolled on his side trying to get comfortable, but found nothing. He returned to his back and stared at the ceiling again, but again found nothing.

His thoughts whirled like a hurricane, his heart pounded in his chest, and his mouth felt as dry as a desert.

 _Kaffas,_ he thought.

 _Why can't I sleep?!_

Outside, thunder rumbled again, the elf's ears twitched but he did not rise, he shifted slightly, trying to relax, but his loose fitting shirt kept getting pinned beneath him, pulling at him making him even more uncomfortable.

Fenris sighed.

He felt…warm…part of him wanted to simply rip off the shirt, maybe then he could get comfortable, maybe then…

"Mmmmph…"

He did not bother to look behind him; he knew what had made that sound. Bethany, sound asleep in his bed, murmuring softly in her sleep.

Fenris' ears twitched in frustration that was the main reason that he could not find his rest tonight. Not the girl's presence, oh no, but what had been said tonight, what she had said, and what he had felt.

He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. It was strange, before he had met Hawke and her companions, comfort had never really mattered to him. He had slept in many uncomfortable places, cramped, cold, wet, and dark places. He had spent so much time on the run that discomfort and pain had been old friends.

Now…things were different.

Now…everything had changed.

He found himself thinking back to the old slaver caves, and his final confrontation with Hadriana. He had given his master's apprentice his word, to spare her life if she told him what he wanted to know. She told him about his sister, that she had become a servant in some Magister's household…she…she was still alive, the one link that might aid him in reclaiming his old life.

Fenris frowned.

He had taken that information, and then…had done what he felt he had to do. He crushed the bitch's heart, for too long she had haunted his dreams and denied him his sleep. She had been a torment to him, now she was gone…

…And Hawke had been disappointed in him.

He could still feel her blues eyes on him, the look on her face, the look that questioned this one act of betrayal. She had not understood.

She did not know Hadriana. He had.

Had he let the witch go, she would only have returned again. She would not have wanted to risk her master's displeasure, Danarius would have been furious if she returned empty handed. She would have tried again, and again, and next time she might not have been so careless, next time, she might have succeeded, or hurt one or more of his companions.

Fenris would not have that.

He had gone to Hawke's estate after, to try and explain all this, but the abomination had been there, more than pleased with his shaming.

Anders, the Abomination, knew how he felt about Hawke, he was sure of it, and like all mages enjoyed seeing Fenris suffer. He took pleasure in the fact that the elf was in pain, and Hawke would not comfort him. He no doubt enjoyed that tonight he would take Hawke to her bed, and pleasure her in ways that would take all thought of Fenris from her mind.

That was the worst part, knowing that the mage was with her now. That he was **laying** with her, **touching** her, it filled him with a cold jealous rage that even he had trouble denying.

The markings on Fenris' skin flared, the white hot glow illuminating the room.

Quickly, he reigned in those emotions, the anger, the rage, he could do it. It was a part of him, and thus something he could control…usually.

Hadriana had been different; there was too much history between them.

He hated the abomination, but that hate could be denied, it could be denied because he would not leave Hawke alone to face the creature's tender mercies.

Fenris shook his head.

Hawke thought she had the mage under control, that love would leash his darker impulses, and keep him from turning into the monster Fenris knew him to be…

He sighed.

He feared that Hawke was wrong, and that one day she would learn just how wrong she was.

So he would stay. He would keep watch…

…Even if she would not acknowledge how he felt…

…He could at least do that for her.

Fenris rose silently, his eyes never going to the bed, respectfully he chose not to watch Hawke's little sister sleep. There was a small basin in the corner, dwarven made, all one had to do was touch the edge and it would fill with cold water.

He splashed some on his face. He hoped that the coldness might calm the heat burning within in him. He gripped the edge of the table, closing his eyes and breathing slowly, trying to push back the dark thoughts, the hate he was feeling.

Fenris blinked.

…Both the hate…and…the dark desire burning within his breast.

Again, Bethany moaned softly in the bed.

The elf shivered and licked his lips.

His eyes drifted towards the bed but stopped just short of it. His conscience warring with his instincts, desires he had thought dead or at least long buried.

He had never spoken his heart with Hawke, how could he even dare. Yet his time with her these last few years had drawn those feelings closer to the surface. He felt. He…he wanted…

It was not easy for him to deal with these emotions. For so long it had been easy, anger and survival in equal measure, any passion he felt was reserved for the hunters chasing him, passion that, up to this point, had always resulted in their deaths.

This…this was something much different.

Bethany's words as they dined by the fire haunted him.

 _My sister is not always correct._

 _Good and evil are not easily quantified._

 _I love my sister…_

… _but she is not always correct._

Those words had awakened something in him. He felt it in the core of his being. This was not like what he felt for Hawke; it was different, but no less intense.

Acceptance.

It was a rare thing to find. Hawke had welcomed him into her company but he doubted sometimes if she truly understood what he was…

The lyrium had burned away everything he had once been. Whoever that elf was…was lost. Even if he found his sister, even if Hadriana had not lied…

What kind of life would he find waiting for him?

Who would ever accept him like this?

Who would ever see him more than a simple slave?

Danarius' little wolf.

The mere thought made him scowl.

The fog warriors who had found him in Seheron had welcomed him. They were men and women of strength and fought for their freedom, they did not care what he had been; only what he could offer their group.

When Danarius ordered them dead, he could not stop himself, not then, but their end had finally woke him up, allowing him to see himself for what he truly was for the first time. It had allowed him to see Danarius for who he was for the first time.

Not the Master, but a man, a cruel ruthless man who did not deserve Fenris' worship or loyalty.

He had run that day, and had not stopped running since. Even staying here in Kirkwall, he was trying to outrun the past. No present, no future, just moving, no plan for what came next.

Hawke had offered him a place at her side, and he had welcomed that. He was grateful for her guidance, it kept him centered, but it did nothing to prepare him for what came next, what kind of life could he have, if Danarius died tomorrow, what kind of world would he find himself in.

He…he did not know.

He thought he might have something with Hawke, she was both strong and beautiful, but sadly the abomination had beaten him to it. Anders could be charming, and Hawke welcomed his easy humor, and even the cause he fought for, even if she did not understand truly what having free mages in this world meant.

Fenris was outmatched, he could not speak with Hawke, draw her in with words. He was angry, sullen, and as Varric had said so many times…broody. He did not like to think of himself that way, but was aware that many saw him as such.

For a while he had tried to change, he had gone to Bethany to help him with that. Who knew Hawke better than her sister? She could help him find a way to get through Hawke's armor, to reach the heart underneath. She…

He let out another shuddering breath.

Before the deep roads, she had tried. He had tried to be the man that the girl described, it was not easy, but it was worth the attempt. After the deep roads, he had lost her counsel, and slipped back into old habits, without the girl to guide him, he had lost his way again.

Was it any surprise that Hawke ended up sharing her bed with the abomination?

He did not blame Bethany. He never had. She had been…useful in his pursuits. She had been far more than the viper he saw that first day outside Danarius' estate.

Time had made him…reconsider his first impression of her.

She had been kind. She had answered his questions about Hawke without a single thought of reward. She had even endeavored to make him smile. Hawke did it with her witty responses, but Bethany could do it with a simple shy glance. Innocent, perhaps, but it contained the promise of something more.

Still Fenris' heart pounded.

Seeing her tonight, looking so wet and tragic, it had filled him with a concern he had never thought possible. When they sat by the fire, often in silence, they seemed to be communicating without saying a word.

She did not pass judgment. She accepted his reasoning for dealing with Hadriana. She understood his anger and saw it was pointless to debate with him on it.

His elven ears twitched.

She accepted him, and in doing so, he accepted her. Gone was the shy smiling girl that he had met almost three years ago now.

In her place, was a strong, yet complicated young woman.

That fact…did not scare him.

He looked upon the bed then, truly looked upon it. The girl lay on stomach, the sheets having mostly fallen away, barely covering her waist and hips. In the low light of the dying fire, pale skin glowed soft orange, the gentle curve of her back only interrupted by the barest covering of a silken sheet.

The girl buried her head in the pillow, griping it firmly as she murmured softly against it, her face all but hidden by the long cascade of raven colored locks.

A shiver ran down Fenris' spine.

What was he going to do now?

He swallowed hard, and stepped away from the basin, he realized he should return to his place by the fire, but found that he no longer wanted to.

He drifted closer to the bed, his eyes never leaving the girl's sleeping form. She cooed softly as he grew closer, shifting a leg, revealing even more creamy flesh.

 _Stop right_ _ **now!**_

He heard that warning voice in his head.

 _She is Hawke's little_ _ **sister!**_ _You_ _ **cannot**_ _…!_

He acknowledged that voice, recognized it as the voice of wisdom.

Yet, again…he chose to ignore it.

His ears lowered in frustration.

He was tired of pretending that he felt nothing.

He was tired of acting like he did not care.

He had promised to watch over her, to give her a place that she could feel safe.

He was tired of acting like that was a small thing.

He was tired of it all.

Fenris stood over the bed, watching her sleep, the gentle sound of her breathing, the rise and fall of the gentle curve of her back.

He sat down quietly beside her, looking upon this beautiful young woman. Up close he could see the scars. Old wounds left from her new life, her fights with the darkspawn.

Scratches from what might have been blades or claws, a particularly nasty one on her right shoulder; it looked like some wicked trap had shut tight upon the flesh there. He face still remained hidden by the pillow and her hair, which was probably the only reason he had mustered the courage to get this close…

His heart hammered against his chest.

He raised his hand, the fingers shook, not with fear but with nervous anticipation. They drifted just above the curve of her back, that long pale line running down to the curve of her hips.

"Mmmm," she sighed.

Fenris licked his lips.

Despite the coldness of the rain, the small room had become quite warm. A single bead of sweat ran down the beautiful warden's back. His finger moved above it, not quite touching her, but so close, oh so very close.

He sighed nervously.

What would it be like to touch her, was that skin as soft as the fur she had worn tonight, and if he did…?

Would he be able to stop himself?

Outside, the storm was finally passing, but here…in this room.

It was finally reaching its crescendo.

Fenris closed his hand, making a tight fist; he shook his head, trying to will away the heat burning through him.

Wrong, he thought.

This is so wrong.

He sighed and started to rise. This had been foolish, he was foolish…he…he was…

"Don't go."

The words were soft, barely able to be heard, but they stopped him dead in his tracks, stopped him like a wall of pure dragon bone.

He looked back.

Bethany was watching him from beneath heavy lidded eyes, eyes that were the color of warm honey.

Eyes darkening with desire.

He froze, pinned in place by that gaze, all conscious thought had faded.

She sat up in bed, her long black hair moving over her breast, shielding them from his view.

Fenris tried not to look.

He swallowed hard again.

They watched each other closely for a moment, silently watching across a chasm of fear and doubt.

In the end, it was the warden who made the first move, not surprising given her familiarity of walking into darkness and fear.

She gave him that shy smile he remembered from so long ago.

That smile that reminded him that this…was her…

This **was** Bethany Hawke.

She lightly patted the mattress next to her.

"Please," she cooed in a husky voice, "Don't go."

Fenris turned, he moved softly to her side, sitting down on the bed…he…he…

He stared into those brown eyes, drowning in their depth.

He…he had nothing to say.

The storm had finally come.

 **A/N: Went to the edge this chapter, next…well I think you can guess the rest. "Chuckles"**

 **DG**


End file.
